


We Can't Lose You

by The3rdTrumpeteer



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Gambling, Gen, Hurt Race, Hurt/Comfort, and Jack is a mom, race is a dumbass, there's some blood but it's not bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 01:21:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14344986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The3rdTrumpeteer/pseuds/The3rdTrumpeteer
Summary: Race comes back from gambling one night more than a little worse for wear, and Jack is understandably concerned.





	We Can't Lose You

The walk back to Manhattan across the Brooklyn Bridge had never seemed so far. Then again, Race thought, he had never made the trek with two black eyes and a sprained wrist. Bruised ribs. Maybe a twisted ankle? He wasn’t entirely sure, if he was being completely honest. There were so many bruises and cuts and aches that all blended together into an almost overwhelming mass of pain, but Race knew that if he stopped moving, if he even took the shortest break, he might never get back to the lodging house.

At least the men he had fought with weren’t chasing him anymore. Actually, he acknowledged reluctantly, it hadn’t been much of a fight at all. He had won a few rounds of poker that he shouldn’t have won. The men knew they had been hustled, and they were less than thrilled about it. Race had tried to leave, but the men had other ideas. So they had hauled him into the alley behind the bar and shown him what they thought about his tricks. Race was still amazed he had managed to slip away, especially after one had pulled a knife. But Race had escaped before-

He stumbled a bit and fell into the railing, and there was a sudden explosion of pain in his side that left him gasping for air. Shit. That was something worse than bruised ribs. Leaning heavily against the railing now, Race painstakingly pulled up the hem of his shirt. Turns out the guy with the knife had gotten him, after all.

The cut wasn’t deep, but it was wide - a painful, bloody gash from his right side to his navel. Race couldn’t do anything about it now, so he just lowered his shirt and pressed his arm against the wound as hard as he dared, enough that black spots danced in his vision before fading. He had to get back.

Somehow Race made it across the bridge, and he managed to move a little faster now that he wasn’t worrying about accidentally slipping and plummeting over the edge to his death in the water far, far below.

It seemed like ages before he reached the lodging house, and he almost cried when the building finally came into view, a few candles still burning in its windows.

It was late, and Race had missed curfew by more than a few hours, but the front door was miraculously unlocked. He slipped inside without his usual grace, fully intending to wrap his side and pass out in his bed until morning, but then he tripped over something in the entrance-way. Race barely caught himself; as it was, he fell against the wall and couldn’t keep a quiet groan from escaping his lips. 

“What the hell?”

The thing Race had tripped over moved, and in the dim light of a candle, he could see that it was Jack, rubbing sleep from his eyes and muttering swears under his breath. He stood up and saw Race.

“You tripped over me.” The words were said so bluntly that Race might have laughed under different circumstances, but he was tired and hurting and confused and not entirely sure what to do.

“You was sleepin’ right inside the door, Jackie. It’d be hard not to.” Was he trying to make a joke? Race couldn’t even keep track of his own words now.

“I was waitin’ on you, Racer. Where’ve you been?”

“Um…Brooklyn?” No use lying now.

“Why?”

“I was, uh…I was-” Race suddenly broke into a harsh coughing fit, then let out a low whine at the strain it put on his ribs and side. He would have fallen over had Jack not grabbed him by the shoulders and lowered him gently to the floor.

“Race? What’d you do?” Jack asked once Race had caught his breath.

“I was gamblin’, Jackie. In Brooklyn. They ain’t never seen my face in somma those bars. I thought it’d be easy money.”

“And?”

“…it wasn’t.”

“Shit, Racer.” Jack scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair, then he got up and grabbed a nearby candle. “You gotta tell me where all yer hurt. And don’t try ta hide anything.” He held the candle up to Race’s face, and his eyes widened when he saw the bruises. “Christ.”

“It ain’t that bad.” Race shifted a little and winced. “The bad part is…is my side.”

“Yer side?” Jack moved the candle down and swore again when he saw the blood staining Race’s shirt. He lifted the hem with his free hand. “Did you get  _stabbed?_ ”

“…maybe a little.” Race shrunk back at Jack’s glare. “It ain’t even deep! I can just wrap it and-”

“That ain’t the issue, Race!” Jack was practically shouting now, and Race flinched. Jack saw that and shook his head. “Sorry,” he said in a much lower voice. “But Race…you gotta stop doin’ this. You know how many times I’ve had ta fix you up after a bet gone wrong? Or Specs has had to? Or Crutchie? Yer gonna get yerself killed, and I don’t know what I’m gonna do if that happens.”

Race could feel his face burning with shame. “Jackie…I never thought about that. I’s sorry, I really am.”

“Bein’ sorry’s not enough, Racer.” Jack let go of Race’s shirt and instead grabbed his hand. “You gotta promise me yer not gonna do this anymore. The bars aren’t any place for a kid that has a mouth bigger than his wallet.”

Race opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it. Jack was right - he had a problem. And if he didn’t stop, worse things could happen that wouldn’t only affect him, but all his friends. The boys he considered family. He looked at Jack.

“I promise.”

Jack smiled at him, patting his hand because he seemed to know that a hug was out of the question right that moment. “Alright, Racer, let’s get’cha cleaned up. I love ya, y’know.”

“Love ya, Jackie.”

**Author's Note:**

> me? posting multiple fics a day cause I've been productive on tumblr? it's more likely than you think  
> -  
> find me on tumblr at: https://poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow.tumblr.com/


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